Look After You
by desario
Summary: Harry is thrown into a heated battle between the aurors and the death eaters, and to his shock the one person he'd least expect has a rather unorthodox reaction. And that's just the beginning of many surprises to come. HP/DM M for later chapters!
1. Chapter 1

It was dark in the abandoned ministry building, but Harry tried to not let it get to him. Instead, he walked slowly through the ruins of what was once a nondescript office building, now raw and gaping. A few persistent lighting charms still flickered, but the damage by the death eaters had been too intense for most of it to survive. He padded on silent feet past overturned desks, countless sprays of papers, ransacked chairs, and drooping walls, in almost complete darkness except for the eerie flickers.

Was that a sound? Harry paused immediately, body tensing, raising his wand slightly, although it had been at the ready all night. He was alone, which was slightly foolish of him, but not exactly out of character. But Harry was confident that, the raid over, no death eaters would return. All he was looking for were clues.

But that didn't explain Harry's sneaking about, if he was honest with himself. If he had just been after clues, it would have been easier to cast a full lighting charm and walk normally over the ruins. But the slightest tingle at the base of Harry's neck told him that, against all rational appearances, the buildings weren't as deserted as he thought.

Easing himself between two shattered walls, Harry tried not to breath, his ears straining for that hint of a sound again. What could it be, it barely sounded substantial enough for an animal, let alone a death eater-

CRACK Something, someone apparated immediately next to Harry, who immediately responded with a stunning spell, but it was blind and flew off course as something shoved him into the wall, hard, and the back of his head cracked against the stone. There was a sharp whistle of air as he felt himself disarmed, his wand flying traitorously out of his hands and into the darkness, but he registered this in only a corner of his mind, as he was still being shoved along the wall. He was snarling and trying to rip off the pair of hands that had such a tight hold on his collar but every time he got a grip on them his attacker would slam his head into the wall again, painfully.

As soon as he had been first hit, a horribly familiar voice piped up angrily, from somewhere behind him. "Harry? Harry! Don't worry! We're behind you!" The reedy voice of how-did-he-ever-make-auror Creevy, and the sudden footsteps of a crowd, coming from… behind Harry? Or in front of him? He could barely make it out, maybe an echo, because it couldn't be both, now, could it…. Harry was focused on his attacker, almost unconscious of these thoughts at the fringes of his mind as he at last felt his fist connect with the side of a head, in front of him. Harry grunted at the splitting pain of his knuckles, but was rewarded by the slight loosening of his assailant's grip. It was all he needed….

Suddenly the room became illuminated with darts of light, of all colors, spells flying high and low. Where had all of these people come from? Harry dimly remembered the crowds, but no, this couldn't be the scene of another battle, could it, there was a Creevey here, and he had been disarmed, oh Fuck- Harry's momentary advantage had been lost in his sheer shock at the evidence of so many more people, he felt the tightening grip of his attacker draw him under the overhang of a demolished wall, blocked from any possible help or interference.

Frantically Harry redoubled his efforts, wondering why his assailant was not using his own wand, because Harry had been disarmed before he could do the same to him, and he had been so close it had been impossible to dodge the Expelliarmus spell. Whatever the reason for his attacker's mysterious reluctance to use magic, it had probably saved Harry's life, and he felt adrenaline coursing through his blood like fire, and he slowly began to overpower his opponent, more of his punches were connecting, he felt his knuckles grind soundly into flesh, and the oncoming blows became weaker and weaker, some even just grazed his sides, and suddenly Harry was furious, thinking about all the people out there who had tailed him to make sure he was safe, and he had led them all into a trap, unknowingly, but still…. The fear, the shock, and the pain were replaced by boiling anger, and Harry knew that he was going to win this fight, and then return to help the others, he triumphantly prepared to deal one more blow, and that was when whoever had dragged him down here finally used their wand.

Harry registered a series of incantations, murmured with effort but decisiveness, and at the same time a blinding light filled his eyes, and his arms were jerked behind him as magicked ropes slid around his wrists, his fists unable to harm the figure standing unsteadily in front of him, who held one hand on the cut and bruised lip that had resulted from one of Harry's blows. The injustice of the use of magic, now, after Harry had essentially won, made his rage molten hot and he couldn't help but choke out, his own tongue feeling thick, tasting blood in his mouth, "You fucking cheat!" and brace himself for the inevitable.

Instead, he heard the strangest sound; his assailant laughed, a rich chuckle as though this was the funniest thing he had heard in a good long while. This did nothing to abate Harry's anger, and he tried to make out the face of his attacker, but the light, some sort of magic, was still too bright and too close to his own eyes.

They were still in a secluded area, but the sounds of the outside battle were still fresh enough to make Harry wince, and squirm in his bonds, and swear again.

To his intense shock, the hands that had just moments before slammed him into the wall now settled on his shoulders, and pressure was applied until Harry was prevented from struggling. "It won't do any good, Potter. You're quite trussed up," the voice told him matter-of-factly. Another sickeningly familiar voice.

"Malfoy?" Harry squinted, trying to make out the blonde's features through the blinding light. He only got another chuckle in response, and despite everything, Harry felt something warm pool low in his stomach at the sound. He was still conscious of the adrenaline rushing through him, heightening his senses, and his white hot anger. "Malfoy! I can't fucking see you."

"I would think that was the least of your worries, right now," the amused voice responded, but obligingly the force of the light was lowered, until it was just a hovering, candle-like orb, and Harry could finally make out the grinning face of his old arch enemy. Malfoy was startlingly close to him, his arms still locked on Harry's shoulders, and he did not look the least bit perturbed. No, in the change of light, Harry felt a thrill of actual fear pass through him as he recognized hunger deep in the blonde's gaze. He stopped wriggling and stood, panting, his gaze locked on Malfoy's.

"Well," he taunted bitterly, "What now? Going to take me to your death eater pals?" He couldn't believe it would be Malfoy who was the end of him, who Dumbledore had tried to save from this very fate. Harry closed his eyes in remorse, unwillingly to continue to meet the calculating gray stare. His chest was still heaving up and down with exertion, his lips slightly parted to draw in air. How badly he wanted his hands free, he had these incredible urges to lay into Malfoy, fingers twisting into his hair, digging into his skin-

Harry suddenly felt fingers grasping his own hair, felt lips pressed ravenously against his own, and with the force of an electric shock realized that Malfoy's- _Malfoy's_- tongue had slipped dexterously past his lips and was eagerly exploring his mouth. And Harry, still in shock, saw his body responding with equal enthusiasm, saw how his rushing adrenaline could find equivalent release in this as in brawling physically with Malfoy…. He felt himself give a small, involuntary moan as he kissed Malfoy back, harder, as Malfoy hissed when Harry's tongue ran over the split part of his lip. Harry tilted his head to one side to get a more promising angle, once again straining against his bonds but for a far, far different reason than the one that had driven him moments ago.

Malfoy was the one to pull away. His arms were now entwined around Harry's shoulders instead of pressing them down, and the pair of them were breathing even harder. "Mmm, no, Potter, I'm keeping you all for myself," Malfoy breathed into his ear, and Harry shuddered, he felt his pants getting tighter, oh God, and a heartbeat later Harry felt his knees go weak and his head start to swim as he felt Malfoy's tongue moving slowly up and down his neck, felt his teeth digging into the soft, vulnerable skin there. One of the blonde's hands drifted languidly down Harry's torso to slide under the waistband of his pants, a finger at the time, until Harry moaned again, unable to control himself. As if in response, Malfoy's mouth at his neck bit him, hard, needy.

All of a sudden there was a huge, shattering crash right next to them, and they jerked unsteadily apart, as pieces of the destroyed old building began to shower down on them, the fight around them having approached a climax at last. With a muffled swear and another low word, Malfoy grabbed Harry by the scruff of his neck as the ropes released themselves and several huge pieces of debris slammed into the ground where Harry had been, helpless, a moment before.

Harry was completely disoriented, and when he clawed back some awareness, although he still felt as heady as though he had consumed a barrel of firewhiskey, he wasn't sure if it was from the fighting or the kissing, but he realized that he had a tight grip on Malfoy's hand as he led him, god knows where. The echoing crashes and shrieks seemed to get quieter, as they continued, however, and Harry was numb yet reassured by this.

Suddenly, they jerked to a halt, and Malfoy turned around and without a word clawed his hand free. Harry opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out, and it didn't matter anyways, the blonde was already darting away, but not before shoving something into Harry's hand, and with a sharp crack, Harry knew he was relatively alone.

He looked down at his hand, and saw his own wand safe in his fingers.

Harry felt his vision blur for an instant. He wanted nothing more than to sink to the ground right there, and think about Malfoy, about what had happened, but the sounds of battle from his left made him jerk his head around. Without hesitating, Harry started towards the fight, quickly picking up speed until he was sprinting, wand up and prepared for anything, refusing to let himself recall anything that had happened in the last fifteen minutes.

Because what the hell had that been?


	2. Chapter 2

Back at the Auror offices several days later, Harry finally found a spare moment to get around to the task he had been itching to begin ever since the incident at the ramshackle offices. Grimly entering the mazelike file room, he rifled patiently through neatly labeled tabs until he found the one he sought, and eased a thick folder out. Hefting it thoughtfully in his hands, Harry made his way back through the corridors, towards the office he shared with his partner, Ron. The bruises from his fight a few days ago had yet to fade, as did Harry's amazement of what had happened between him and Malfoy. Back at the offices though, he tried not to think about it. He had also refused healing for all of his wounds, as none were magically inflicted and would heal eventually on their own. Harry was, at this point in his eventful life, more than used to being scraped up, and the pain helped focus his anger. The only length he went to was an energy potion slipped into his morning coffee each day, as Harry's bruises did not help his recent overworked exhaustion.

Ron, seated at his own desk, didn't look up when Harry entered but offered a floppy sort of wave in greeting, a file of his own open in front of him. In his other hand, there was a large, half eaten sandwich.

Harry threw the folder down on the desk, and its weight resulted in such a loud noise that Ron did look up, and whistled. "Heavy stuff, what's that load of rubbish now?" he inquired.

Harry hesitated a beat before replying. "Draco Malfoy's folder." He didn't meet Ron's eyes, but he heard the concern in his friends tone when he replied.

"Rubbish indeed. Uh, I just hope you'll be careful of getting too… obsessed, again. I know Malfoy can have that effect on you, but really, its not worth it. Even if he did practically cave your face in."

That effect on him, indeed. Harry suddenly felt himself grow hot around the collar imagining Ron knowing about this new effect Malfoy seemed to have on Harry. Mumbling a weak reassurance, Harry sat at his desk, and began to skim through the file.

Draco Malfoy was rather infamous by this point for his role in the new ranks of death eaters, and the folder contained all of the ministry's information on him, which, to Harry, was frustratingly little.

After the battle at Hogwarts, and the defeat of Voldemort, everyone had assumed that without their leader the death eaters would be dispersed, imprisoned and made to atone for their crimes. Unsurprisingly, the death eaters themselves were not quite so complacent about his assumption. Before his demise, Voldemort had engaged in immense efforts of luring new recruits to pad his ranks for the war that never came. After his death, these new dark soldiers rallied around one of their own, and the entire structure of the group evolved with the changing times. Rather than one absolute leader, approached in power by none, several formidable individuals led local sections of the illegal group, with a hierarchy based on sheer magical ability and success in battle. The brands that had symbolized servitude to Voldemort became, although still respected, more inconvenient than practical and were abandoned to further the groups anonymity. Deception was one of their major strengths, as during their consolidation of power and testing of their abilities, in the early days these new death eaters were still relatively weak. Draco Malfoy had stood out from the beginning.

He had been one of the first to pledge himself to these new ranks, right after his mother was absolved of guilt and given free reign of the Malfoy fortune. His father, on the other hand, was sentenced to life in Azkaban; he barely made it a month before dying, he had been so worn to shreds by those last months with Voldemort. Draco Malfoy could have gone either way, but he took up his father's mantle and allied himself with Jacobin Snow, the man who looked to be the death eaters' most promising new leader. Along with Snow's own nephew Dorian, Malfoy quickly cemented himself as his second in command, young as he was. His youth proved to be an advantage, though, as the elder Snow saw only rivals in the adult death eaters who had once been loyal only to Voldemort, and believed themselves above a usurper. Many of these ended up dead or in prison.

Malfoy had likely begun with taking the lead in small, insignificant raids, and moving on to greater and grander things. In an army of fresh, young recruits, it would not be hard for a boy with the training of an ancestry of dark wizards to slide into the top, and that is exactly what Malfoy did. Now he acted like an extension of Snow's own arm, doing his bidding and constantly amassing him further power.

Snow had also warped the young wizard to his own bloodthirsty ways. Before Voldemort's fall, Snow was one of the deatheaters whose eyes the others could never meet comfortably. His reputation preceded him always, a reputation for the horrible maiming and brutal cruelty to his victims, who were left alive, always, but continued as mere shreds of their former selves. The Carrows, responsible for the Longbottom tragedy, had been mentored by Snow, but their teacher's tastes tended to run a bit more to the physical, and Malfoy had picked up on these.

He was one of the hated around the auror office, as many of the wizards had been his victims, and sported the scars to prove it. (Try as he might, Harry could not bring to mind, or find great mention of in the file, any victims whose lives had been taken by him.) While Malfoy seemed to be growing into his brutality yet- his attacks were far short of the destructive power of Snow- they were characteristic of their painfulness, and of the physical deformities they left. Even Ron had a hideous black gash along his wrist, where he had been just an instant too slow to completely dodge one of the wizard's curses. Harry was one of the few unmarked.

And, as far as he knew, Harry was also the only one to be kissed by him.

Cheeks flushing at this thought, Harry quickly ducked his head again and began to read the file in depth, occasionally making notes on a spare piece of paper.

* * *

><p>"Harry! Oh my god, what happened?" Hermione's voice floated over to Harry and he jumped, caught by surprise. He looked up to see his old friend standing by Ron's desk as he shrugged into his cloak, his desk already tidied. Hermione worked in the department of mysteries, where she put her incredible brains to use by solving what had baffled wizards for centuries. She usually dropped by to collect Ron, her fiancée, when it was time to go home. Was it really that late already? Harry rubbed a hand through his hair, suddenly realizing how exhausted he was. Any energy from his morning coffee-potion concoction had worn off long ago, and it didn't help that he had barely eaten all day. He had not stopped reading and rereading the file since he had sat down with it this afternoon; his only breaks had been to daydream about his encounter with Malfoy, but these had been detailed enough to make him blush and start to read at a furious pace again to get it out of his mind. It had also served to distract him from his bruises; now, remembering them, they all seemed to burn in extra force. Harry was used to getting knocked about, but combined with his exhaustion, his entire skin seemed to throb with a fierce ache.<p>

"Got into an unexpected fight," Harry explained. He squeezed his eyes shut, and then opened them, trying to stop his vision from flickering as it was. "It was pretty bad, actually. I just went to that office building, you know, to see if I could find anything that might hint at which death eaters had been involved, and-"

"He stumbled into about fifty of them, that's what he did," Ron interrupted, his voice rich with satisfaction. Harry rolled his eyes at Ron's gross exaggeration. It had been far fewer than fifty. "Luckily, that little twerp Creevey had been tailing him with his little junior auror fan club. They got into a proper scrap, but the death eaters fled with their tails between their legs pretty quickly."

Harry scowled. He had confronted Christopher Creevey, whose brother's death in the Hogwarts battle had given the desire to become an auror, against all odds, about his initiative as soon as possible. It had been quite a row. "They shouldn't have been doing that, if I had found them I would have killed them myself," he grumbled. He hated people trying to protect him, especially because it usually put them in danger.

Ron just shrugged at this. He knew Harry well enough to gauge his feelings about the fawning junior aurors. "Anyways, Harry was probably the worst hurt. And guess who he had been fighting with? Malfoy! From Slytherin!" Ron's voice was a mix between gleeful and furious. "God, I wish I had been there. He's been pretty busy lately, hasn't he? All those raids, the prat. Didn't think he had it in him."

"Draco Malfoy," Hermione breathed in astonishment. "That is a surprise." Her sharp eyes quickly went from Harry's bruised face to the pile of papers on his desk in front of him. "What's that there, then?" Her tone hinted she already knew the answer.

"It's Malfoy's file," Harry explained to Hermione, slightly sheepish. She shot him an unreadable look, and her voice was a little concerned when she answered.

"I really don't think that's a good idea, Harry," she said to him. Harry gave a quiet, exasperated sigh at his friends' concern. Hermione noticed this, and walked over to put a hand on his shoulder. She bit her lip, seemingly conflicted. "No, Harry, seriously, not just because you were obsessed with him at Hogwarts, although that doesn't exactly make it better, does it? I just think you should… leave him be, you know?" Out of character for her, she seemed to stumble for the right thing to say. Harry saw Ron look up and notice this too, and they exchanged slightly perplexed looks.

Ron answered her before Harry could. "Look what he did to him, Hermione!" he said defensively. Harry was grateful for Ron sticking up for Harry, even though he thought investigating Malfoy was bad news as well. "Harry just wants to get even, likely."

Hermione seemed slightly desperate. She let her hand slide from Harry's shoulder, and turned to leave with Ron, but looked back at Harry imploringly. "Please, just ignore Malfoy, Harry, he's not worth it. Really." The advice was eerily similar to Harry's sixth year. Well, he had been right that time, hadn't he?

"Want to catch a floo with us, Harry?" Ron asked, and they paused in the doorway, his arm comfortably around her waist. He hadn't noticed anything strange about Hermione's last words. She just stared worriedly at Harry.

"No thanks, I'll just spend a little more time on this, then head back to my flat," Harry said, knowing this wouldn't reassure Hermione at all and feeling a little guilty for it. Her face clouded a little.

"Well, don't stay too late, Harry. You look really horrible," Ron said earnestly. Harry cracked a smile, and Hermione seemed to return to normal a bit, for she rolled her eyes and dragged Ron out.


	3. Chapter 3

"Now, Harry, what's this I hear about you conducting a personal investigation on Draco Malfoy?" Abraham Knolt, the head of the auror division, fixed Harry with a keen brown gaze from behind his large desk the next day. It was enough to make Harry squirm a little, standing in front of him. He had gotten to know the auror well, and found that he respected his judgment and leadership. Knolt did not sound exactly pleased with Harry's initiative, this time. Harry supposed that was why he had summoned him, but he was still confused; the investigation was on his own time, and would only help the ministry.

"Well, sir, it's quite simple, actually; I ran into bit of a scrape with Malfoy, which got my attention on him, and I figure bringing him in would be a large step forward," Harry responded, careful to keep his tone even and reasonable sounding. He seemed to be having the exact same conversation over and over again. The older man did not alter his blank expression, as though waiting for more. Feeling like he was standing in front of Dumbledore again, Harry fished around, and added, "And, er, I've had some success before, sir, you remember, with the Burkes, so I don't think it's too farfetched to go after him on my own."

Knolt sighed, kneading his brow with a calloused hand. "I haven't brought you here to voice any doubts about your abilities, Harry. I've asked you here because I am aware that Auror Joseph asked you to stop your investigation, and you obviously have not."

"Ah," Harry said, in sudden, sheepish understanding. It was true that Joseph Honeycomb had indeed ordered him to stop looking into Malfoy, without a word of explanation. Joseph had seniority over Harry, but unlike Knolt, Harry neither respected him nor was complacent about taking orders from him. Joseph Honeycomb was short tempered and blunt, and lorded over anyone whom he believed himself superior too; an astonishingly large group it was. And it was true, Harry had completed ignored the auror's orders, except to become slightly more circumspect about his investigation. How Knolt had known he was continuing it, Harry didn't have the slightest idea.

"Yes, I haven't stopped looking into Malfoy," Harry continued, growing more uncomfortable by the second. Knolt had this effect on him, to reduce him to a disobedient Hogwarts student confronted by a professor once again. "But that's only because Auror Joseph gave absolutely no reason for it, and I believe it is a valuable use of my time. Malfoy is a highly placed death eater, and has never been the focus of-"

"Joseph is under absolutely no requirement to explain his reasons to you, Harry, and I hope you remember this in the future." Knolt interrupted him. "He is an experienced wizard with an impressive track record. You should not allow your personal feelings for him to get in the way like this." Either Knolt was extremely perceptive, or Harry's dislike of Honeycomb was just that blatant. Harry believed it was probably both, but either way Knolt had gotten to the heart of the matter immediately.

"But _why_, sir, would he order something like that, I don't understand," Harry said in frustration. He didn't. He had a sneaking little suspicion that Honeycomb was trying to undermine him, as he had sometimes in the past, apparently for the fun of it.

"Because I told him to," Knolt said simply. Harry stared at him in surprise.

"Er, why? Sir."

Knolt sighed again. He seemed to not have heard Harry's question. "I've gotten to know your friend, Miss Granger, quite well over the last few months. I was able to lend her a few aurors for a project of hers, and she returned the favor by giving me some advice on a… project of my own." He fixed Harry with a hard stare suddenly. "She has recently been to see me, almost immediately after she found out what you were up to." Harry felt his confusion increase about tenfold. How was Hermione involved in this? She knew Knolt? Through what? "Let me tell you, Harry, if it hadn't been for her advice- which I trust rather implicitly, at this point- we would not be having this conversation. I would be shipping you off to a cubicle somewhere for ignoring orders and digging into something that I would much prefer you to have left alone. Your friend, however, has assured me that you mean no harm, and can be trusted with a secret. She also said," and his tone became rueful yet amused, "… that even if I had packaged you off with a strict warning, it would only increase your curiosity and desire for vindication. Having gotten to know you somewhat well, in my own humble opinion, through your professional life, I had no trouble being convinced by her on that point." He paused again. The conversation had warped entirely from anything Harry had expected, and he was so off balance by this point that he didn't even reply to Knolt at all, merely waited for him to continue.

"I ordered you to desist investigating Draco Malfoy, Harry, because he is my own undercover agent. And he is damn useful, and doesn't deserve the trouble of having an auror hunting him down, no matter what he may have done to your face."

* * *

><p>Harry got back to his flat late at night, yet again. He had spent a long, long time questioning Knolt, after he had gotten over his first amazement. Likely he had been a bit rude, but the head auror was understanding enough to forgive his lack of composure, and patiently answer Harry's questions.<p>

Now, he felt a mixture of emotions. Shock still flowed through his system whenever he tried to comprehend the idea of Malfoy not being a death eater, not a real one, with what he had thought for years. He also felt flattered by Knolt's trust in him; after the man's first warning, he did not indicate that he felt the need to remind Harry of the need for secrecy again. With a shiver, Harry realized that Malfoy's safety was at stake every moment he spent in the enemy's camp.

Harry also felt a little betrayed by Hermione. Knolt had explained her involvement. Around the time he had been working with the department of mysteries, another auror had, like Harry, begun investigating Malfoy. Knolt had responded by ordering him off it without explanation, and Hermione had somehow got wind of it. It had taken her a few days to get the facts straight and find the right way to confront Knolt, but she had bravely told him that she knew it was likely Malfoy was an undercover spy, and the only reason she was threatening his safety by speaking out this way was because if she had figured it out, others could too, even death eaters, maybe, so Knolt had better fix some things. With her help, Knolt had refined Malfoy's disguise; Malfoy got the go-ahead to be more brutal to aurors, Knolt authorized small, weak investigations on Malfoy based on completely false information, and a million more minor details.

Overpowering almost all of these other whirlpools of emotions, though, were Harry's guilt and shame. He hadn't known about Malfoy's secret, of course, but still felt uncomfortable thinking of the blows he had rained on Malfoy during their fight. He even felt guilty for having been badmouthing him since his "joining" the death eaters. Knolt revealed to Harry that Malfoy's prime motivation had been his mother; if he would work for Knolt, Narcissa's own rather lengthy rap sheet would be dropped, and she would be allowed to live in peace with all of the Malfoy holdings at their manor; without Knolt to make these arrangements, the wizard family's possessions would have been confiscated by the ministry for Lucius's close role in the proceedings. Even Knolt could not save Malfoy's father. But he had presented the idea to Draco Malfoy as a way to serve his new allegiance to the best of his ability, to right the wrongs of his father by growing close to the new dark power that Knolt, unlike others, had felt mustering as soon as Voldemort fell. Knolt never held any rosy dreams about a world without dark wizards, but quietly did his part to implant the best spies in the best places as soon as possible. Malfoy fell into his lap like a present at Christmas.

And, he had been fighting as hard as he could not to think of the one thing his entire mind seemed to revolve around now, Harry had kissed Malfoy, not knowing any of this, still thinking he was a death eater and not caring. Harry suspected he might be going mad, just a little bit. From exhaustion and the incessant scraps with the death eaters. There was really no other rational explanation. And Malfoy had kissed him too, so the same to him. They were both mental. It had been a moment of insanity, absolute insanity. And, even more insane, Harry felt the need to see Malfoy again, and confront him about all these crazy emotions welling up in him.

With a sigh, Harry stumbled through his apartment to his bedroom, peeling off his uniform before he collapsed onto his bed. Despite his exhaustion, for most of the night he lay awake, staring into the darkness in front of him, rethinking all of his completely mental thoughts, and trying to ignore how the most mental one of all- the memory of Malfoy's hand in his hair, his breath in his ear- kept running through his mind over and over again.


	4. Chapter 4

Some weeks really were worse than others, Harry thought to himself. It was only a few days since his fight and then the shocking revelation about Malfoy, and here he was, back at that office building. It had been so strange for the death eaters to have been there when Harry went last time that Knolt had taken notice, and ordered Harry to return with a few more aurors, although they all doubted that they would see any more death eaters. Harry himself had wondered about it; it couldn't have been a trap for him, as the death eaters had fled too quickly. They had been just as surprised, but what business did they have in an old building they had destroyed over a week ago?

Harry had chosen a small group to go with him, and they were only slightly wary as they entered the building. It was to their collective shock when death eaters began to materialize out of the shadows around them.

Luckily, the aurors Harry had chosen were more trained than Creevey's junior crew, and as they quickly got over their surprise, the battle turned deadly. The darkness was split up with small darts of multicolored lights flying to and fro, with bursts of the surrounding office remains being spookily illuminated whenever a spell hit it's mark, and burst into savage light.

Harry himself was quickly drawn into a duel with a tall, masked death eater with a mirthless grin on his face. However, he was half distracted by the roaring in his ears that had appeared with the death eaters, and had yet to depart; he recognized it as happiness and keen wistfulness. Malfoy might be here, right? And he could confront him. He just had to finish this wizard off first before he could start looking for the blonde.

A red flame flew past Harry's ear, mere inches from his face, and he swore, suddenly brought back to reality. The death eater was closing in, confidence gradually overtaking his features. Harry cast a quick succession of spells, but all but the last hit the death eater's speedy shield charm with a fizzle. The final one ripped through the weakened shield and hit the wizard square in the chest, and he fell with a muffled scream, but Harry was already ducking wizard's last spell and sprinting away.

How would he find Malfoy in all of this, even if he was here? Harry realized in despair, trying and failing to penetrate the darkness around him. There was only one way that might work, but it depended completely on whether the other wizard wanted to find Harry just as much as Harry wanted to find him. Hoping he wouldn't regret it, Harry pointed his wand straight above him and murmured the incantation for a lighting spell. Immediately a large, glowing blue orb whirled into existence above his head, casting a dim light on him that was like a beacon in the darkness.

The response was immediate, but Harry had been prepared for it. The spells of five or so death eaters immediately shot towards him, and Harry countered with the charm that would cause them to rebound on their attacker, but he was rewarded with only one scream. The other death eaters avoided the counter attack, and continued to blast spells towards Harry, who blocked them as fast as he could.

Within minutes he felt sweat trickling down his temple. Harry had completely given up trying to shoot spells back at his attackers, whom he could only barely make out, but was focused entirely on dodging and canceling the spells that flew towards him. He was feeling very desperate indeed when his lighting spell suddenly winked out, cancelled by some unknown wizard. This was such a surprise Harry whirled around to look behind him as though he could catch who the perpetrator was, when he caught a dart of sickly green light out of the corner of his eye, directed at his heart. His reflection spell was just a moment too late, and the light barely swerved off course, and slammed into Harry's side like a bullet. A moment later as he reeled, something else, larger and more corporeal, slammed into him too.

This force, and Harry's head was swimming from the spell that had hit him but he could feel an arm around his waist and a hand on the back of his head, shoved him decisively forward until the lights and sounds of the battle were cut off as they went behind a half standing wall, and into the depths of the building. As soon as he could Harry struggled away from his assailant, but he had to lean against the wall to support himself. His side felt like it was burning up.

It was pitch black in whatever lone room they had stumbled into, but Harry had an inkling of who his attacker might be, and who had cut his lighting spell short.

"What," said the cool voice of Draco Malfoy, now shaking with fury, "the _hell _were you thinking, Potter?"

* * *

><p>Harry sighed, but he didn't know if it was from relief or happiness or exasperation. He suspected it was all three. Feeling quite safe, he reached into his pocket with a shaking hand and brought out a small vial of a clear potion, which he swallowed quickly as the wizard in front of him cast a small lighting spell above them. Immediately, the pain in his side dulled and became a minor buzz in the back of his mind. Harry knew it was temporary, but the energy that oozed through his limbs made him feel giddy and reckless. He shot a grin at the enraged wizard in front of him.<p>

"I had to get your attention somehow," Harry said nonchalantly. "It was nice that you were so concerned about me." He dodged a punch Malfoy aimed at him and smiled sweetly.

"_Fuck_ you, Potter, another minute and you would've gotten fucking _killed_, they would be scraping you off the floor now." Malfoy seemed ready to attack Harry himself, but luckily his wand was forgotten, sticking out of a pocket. Feeling it would be wise to protect against all potential dangers- also, he didn't want to be rendered helpless by Malfoy again- as Malfoy aimed another blow at him Harry nipped in and dexterously grabbed the other's wand, dancing out of reach again quickly. The potion seemed to have heightened his reflexes tenfold, but it also made him feel a bit out of control. He wiggled his eyebrows at Malfoy in disapproval as the blonde made a faltering grasp for his wand and swore again, then advanced on Harry. He stopped short as Harry leveled his own wand at him.

"Okay, good, I think you just need to cool off a little bit," Harry said. "Just stay there for a moment, and then we can have a chat."

"A _chat_," Malfoy repeated, his tone scathing. A calculating light came into his eyes as he regarded Harry and he stepped forward again, until the wand was practically touching his chest. "Is that all you want to do, Potter? Is that why you- 'got my attention'- in such a dramatic way, for a chat?" His voice sunk to a purr, but there was still boiling anger behind it. Harry shifted uncomfortably, suddenly less confident, which the blonde seemed to pick up on. He stepped to the side of the brandished wand and moved until his body was inches away from Harry's own.

With the intimate closeness of the other wizard, Harry felt more powerless all of a sudden than he had in his entire life. The wand fell to his side. He swallowed loudly a Malfoy lifted a hand to gently stroke his jaw with two fingers. He was smirking at Harry, now. Harry brought his attention away from this with difficulty.

"No, Malfoy, I-" he spluttered as the blonde ran a finger lightly across his lips as he was still talking. "I need to know, I've been going crazy. Why are you doing this to me?"

"Are you complaining?"

"I just need to know why you're fucking with me like this," Harry said impatiently. He closed his eyes involuntarily as Malfoy moved closer, if possible, pressing him up against the wall with his body. His heart was pounding in his ears. He could feel Malfoy shrug.

"Whatever, Potter. Because you're on the other side? We death eaters can have very exotic tastes," he said, and the airy note in his voice grated on Harry, who knew that this was a lie from all that he had learned that week. His eyes snapped open and narrowed at the man, who was running his fingers through Harry's hair now.

"Don't toy with me, Malfoy," Harry said angrily. "I just want the truth." Anger was quickly bubbling to the surface, although the blonde seemed unaware of this as his hands continued their slow exploration of Harry's body.

All of the sudden Harry unceremoniously crushed his lips against the other wizard's, and felt the other man's mouth curve into a smile beneath his. Trying to ignore how hot and dizzy the kiss made him feel Harry slid his free hand down the other's arm, and brought that hand down from his shoulder to where Malfoy's fingers were digging into his hip. When his wrists were relatively close together, Harry slowly brought his wand up and moved his mouth away from Malfoy's just far enough to murmur the binding spell against his cheek.

Immediately, thick ropes identical to those that had secured Harry that first time shot out and tightened around Malfoy's wrists. It took him a full beat to notice, and then he reared back, swearing angrily. Harry saw genuine hurt in his eyes, mingling with the suddenly recalled fury, before Malfoy's bound fists crashed into his chin, snapping his head back.

If he hadn't had just downed that revitalizing potion, Harry would probably be unconscious. As it was, he was seeing stars, but managed to shove the other boy forward until they both stumbled to the ground, Malfoy off balance because his arms were tied together and Harry still reeling from the punch. For a moment they just lay there, winded, but soon Malfoy attempted to rise to his knees, clumsily, waving his bound arms around. Harry shoved him again, for good measure, and the blonde went down easily.

"Who the _fuck_ do you think you are, Potter,_ I've_ been fucking with you? When all this time you've just been waiting to fucking _bring me in _like this? Do you even have any idea how much shit you'll be in?" Malfoy's voice was unvarnished rage.

Harry was strangely calm. He got up and regarded the sprawled form of Malfoy on the ground, and shook his head. Then he bent down and seized him by his blond hair, dragging him upwards, ignoring his struggling against Harry.

"Really, what are you going to tell them, Potter, you just happened to be kissing me when you took me into custody? I'm going to love to have you explain that one, you bastard. God, I bet this is turning you on, isn't it?" Malfoy's scathing tone delivered the last remark as though it was designed to get on Harry's nerves or spark and argument. Instead, Harry suddenly crouched until their faces were even and he pressed his lips hungrily against the bridge of Malfoy's nose. The other boy suddenly went perfectly still. Harry moved his lips down Malfoy's face until he reached the dimple just above his lips. He didn't allow himself to think before his actions.

"Oh, _fuck_ yes, it is," Harry breathed in agreement. "But I asked you a question and I know you're lying to me, and I'm in a sort of state where I need some _answers_. And you're going to give them to me." He released his hold on Malfoy's hair and the man slid limply to sit against the wall. Harry saw that the expression on his face was still one of outwards anger, but his gray eyes were practically gleaming as they met Harry's.

"Listen," Harry said to him, and took a deep breath. He had straightened up, and in the sudden stillness he was aware that his nerves were still tingling from touching Malfoy. He hoped it was just a side effect of the potion. He met Malfoy's eyes. "I'm not bringing you into custody, I just wanted to sort of… get even for that first time, okay? And make sure you didn't go anywhere until we talked. Besides, you were being… distracting." Harry's voice sank to a mutter during the last sentence, and Malfoy responded enough to raise his eyebrows, the corners of his mouth twitching. In the next instant he scowled harder, as though to make up for this.

"So I just want you to answer my question; why?"

"I already answered it," Malfoy repeated again, after a pause. He rolled his eyes for effect.

"That was a lie. I know, Malfoy. Okay? So don't bullshit me. I know about your… situation," Harry said, uncomfortably. Remembering Malfoy was on his side made him feel a whole lot guiltier for having him tied up in front of him. An eye for an eye, he reminded himself.

Malfoy had gone rigid. He stared into Harry's gaze searchingly, his expression blank. "What situation would that be, Potter?"

"Your… true loyalties. It was a fluke, me finding out. I got a little… obsessed with you, I'm afraid," Harry admitted, cheeks flushing as the corners of Malfoy's lips twitched again. The other man was slowly calming, like the recovery of a bird after getting its feathers ruffled. "Anyways, you don't have to worry, your secret's safe with me, I swear, no matter what my personal feelings towards you might be. I just want a straight answer, okay? Now." Harry's voice had broken more than once during this speech, but Malfoy didn't seem to notice. For the first time, he wasn't meeting Harry's eyes. There was a beat of silence.

"I don't know, okay Potter? I have no fucking idea why I did it." Harry opened his mouth to protest the weak answer, and then Malfoy glared him into silence. "I was feeling a bit mental, that day. Some days are worse than others." This time it was Malfoy's voice that cracked. "Usually when I feel that way I go out and I hurt one of you pissant aurors, a little present for myself. I guess I just found another sort of release."

Harry exhaled rapidly. This was what he had wanted to hear. Right? "Okay, Malfoy. That still seems like a shit answer, but that's the only way I can explain it too. I've been feeling a bit mad myself lately." He ran a hand through his hair in idle frustration, still feeling a bit unfulfilled. His conscience gave him a pinch. Quickly Harry waved his wand, causing the ropes to disappear, and tossed Malfoy his wand back. The blonde caught it without tearing his gaze from Harry. He hadn't responded.

Harry sighed again. All of a sudden he could feel the pain in his side like a warning, as though it was attempting to break through the lid the potion had allowed him to put on it. It was time to wrap things up. "Listen, Malfoy, I'm also really sorry about your… situation. It's very fucked up for you to have to live like that. I know there's not much I can do to help, but if you need me…." He trailed off lamely as a very icy expression slid onto the other wizard's face, as though he had a very small opinion of Harry's understanding of the matter. "Anyways, we should probably both be going. Good luck." God, he sounded like a complete idiot. He turned hurriedly to go, leave the awkwardness of the situation. As he started to walk away he heard Malfoy stagger to his feet.

"What, no goodbye kiss?" Malfoy murmured and Harry whirled around. He felt his cheeks flush furiously, and then his entire face as Malfoy laughed and walked by him, leaving their small enclosed area. He heard a sharp crack, and then silence. Malfoy had gone.

Feeling more woozy by the second, Harry figured it was no time to linger. With a grimace he disapparated himself, hearing a roaring in his ears as he returned to the auror offices….


	5. Chapter 5

_Two months later. . . ._

* * *

><p>As the morning light slowly lit up the office, Harry rubbed his exhausted eyes under his glasses. He had been there all night, dozing off in fitful starts as he tried to swim his way through the ocean of paperwork one of the wizards from the law offices had served him with the night before. The lawyer, Tobias Cross, was actually a friendly acquaintance whom Harry was fond of- his devilish grin the night before, as he dropped the stacks with a hefty thump on the desk before Harry's pleading eyes, reminded him of the Weaselly twins- but sometimes he thought shrewdly that Cross served him extra work because he liked to get a rise out of the auror. He had certainly laughed it up the night before as Harry stared in disbelief at the pile.<p>

And now, the next morning, Harry was barely through half of it. He sighed, but was forced to admit to himself that if Cross hadn't given him this task, he would have made some excuse to stay anyways. He hated spending time alone at his apartment nowadays, where the silence and emptiness seemed to magnify everything that tended to dwell on his mind, leaving him unable to even sleep practically at all. Better work in his lonely office, where the hum of the building was a comforting background noise that let Harry convince himself he was not utterly alone.

Loosening the collar and tie of his shirt yet again- his auror robes were draped behind him on the chair, and Harry had even guiltily slipped his toes out of his shoes in an effort to get more comfortable during the long night- Harry felt a familiar burning sensation behind his eyeballs that did not bode well. Usually it was a signal for him to get up and get some more coffee, or take a quick perk up potion, or something, but on this one occasion the pain, combined with the throbbing pain in his head, was so great that Harry took off his glasses and leaned on top of his papers, cradling his face in his arms. He was barely aware of himself dozing off again.

* * *

><p>"Harry? Hey, <em>Harry<em>! Did you get any of that? Bloody hell, please tell me you've heard something about this! For fuck's sake! _Fuck_!" The loud voice of Ron jerked Harry back into consciousness. He sat straight up in his chair, banging the back of his head into Ron's jaw, as the redhead had been leaning in to yell right into Harry's ear, kindly enough. They both swore. Harry used one hand to rub his scalp and the other to shove his glasses untidily onto his face. In the back of his mind, he noticed that there seemed to be some sort of uproar outside their offices- the deafening hoots of an army of owls, multitudes of voices raised in consternation, the slamming of doors- but he was still practically half asleep, too muddled to attach any significance to it.

"_God_, Ron, what the fuck was that for," Harry said angrily. He felt his temper flaring up, unreasonably, just because he was sleep deprived and fighting a headache. Ron looked completely unperturbed by his scowling, though. His eyes were wide and he was staring at Harry, his mouth working without sound.

Finally, he repeated, "Have you heard? Merlin, Harry, I can't fucking believe it, no one can believe it, except Knolt, because he was there, so that gives him a fair bit of leeway, but _still-" _

Harry felt his anger recede a bit, replaced by confusion, as he became more aware of the chaos of his surroundings- the hubbub outside, and Ron's obvious shock before him. What the hell was going on? He narrowed his eyes at Ron, but in mere puzzlement, not fury, this time. "Wait, what are you talking about? Knolt?"

Ron was still babbling. "I can't believe no one told you, well, everyone is pretty much running around screaming their heads off out there, so maybe I can, but hell, Draco Malfoy, for fuck's sake-" Harry felt himself freeze, all of a sudden. Had something happened to Malfoy? Did Snow find out about his double agent? Ron continued, unaware. "- I don't even know what happened, y'know? Everyone's saying something different, that he had a sudden change of heart or some shit- let me tell you, that's not gonna stop him from being eaten alive by some of the blokes in this department, am I right?- but fucking Jacobin fucking Snow, what the hell?" Ron had started to move his arms wildly about, by this time, as though this was the only way he could express the full depth of his amazement. He was completely ignoring Harry's reaction.

Harry absentmindedly noticed that his hands were shaking. Draco Malfoy had come up again, just when Harry was beginning to be successful in forgetting about him. And it sounded like he was in something serious.

Harry had lost tabs on the blond after their last meeting; he had been confined to the infirmary on sick leave, and then to his awful empty apartment, for a week as the healers tried to salvage what the unknown blue curse had done to his side. At least he could function now, but he still had an odd looking blue wound that could flare up painfully without warning. When he had recovered as much as he could, Harry was back at work and buried in desk tasks, which he regarded as slow torture. It had helped him get Malfoy off his mind, though, who he could not think about without feeling all sorts of baffling emotions. He hadn't really expected to see him again, being removed from field action for the time being and figuring anyways that it would be safer for the other wizard, who was walking on such an unsteady tightrope in his position. Plus, the idea of forgetting about Malfoy had been attractive in that it seemed to go along with retaining the final shreds of Harry's sanity. No one had ever had an effect like that on him, ever.

"Ron," Harry said quietly. His friend raved on. "Ron!" Ron spluttered to a stop, and looked at him. "I still have no idea what you're talking about."

"Jacobin Snow," Ron repeated slowly, as though addressing a child. "He was brought in. And people are saying- I wouldn't fucking believe this if it wasn't Knolt himself saying it, and he's just as calm as a summer morning right now, well fuck him- that Draco Malfoy brought him in. I mean, what the fuck, Malfoy's a deatheater! He's barely a few steps down from Snow!"

Harry stared at him, completely stunned. He should have been in a better state than Ron, knowing what he did about Malfoy's position, be he felt just as off balance. Even so, this had probably been what Malfoy had been working for all along. And it would be a crippling blow for the deatheaters. Harry shook his head back and forth, slowly, trying to adjust himself to the news. Ron's final remarks finally hit him.

"No, he's not," Harry said automatically. Because it didn't matter now, did it? Malfoy would finally be coming out from undercover, after the years he had spent in constant danger. Despite himself, Harry shuddered again at the thought of being forced to live among deatheaters, forced to essentially become one, always caught in the constant agony of being found out. Dizzily, he met Ron's eyes for a moment, and wondered if this new revelation would be the straw that broke the camel's back for his friend, who didn't look like he could accept any more surprises at the moment. "He was undercover, for years."

It would be an understatement to say Ron looked dumbstruck. He looked at Harry as if he had hit him. "_What_? No, Harry, what about all the things he's done, to us aurors, to _you_, even-"

Harry cut him off, feeling oddly defensive of Malfoy. Good god, when had that happened? He deserved it, in this case, though, if the running gossip was that he was an actual deatheater. "Ron, he was fucking undercover in a colony of deatheaters, he couldn't exactly be giving us flowers at all those battles. You know the protocol for undercovers, they're cleared for practically anything- hell, Knolt told me he ordered Malfoy to look extra convincing- and Malfoy never once killed anyone from our side." Harry had checked this himself, somewhat bewildered by the results. From the common opinion of Malfoy in the auror office, you would think he had finished off a hospital of small children. But no, from his research the blond had limited himself- if you could call it that- to painful or disfiguring spells that caused the recipient agony, but never death. Harry was impressed despite himself; Malfoy had found a clever way to both toe the line, not cross it, and increase his reputation as one hell of a heartless bitch of a deatheater, not to be messed with, in the dark wizard crowd. More softly, he added to Ron, "Hell, Ron, think of what he's been through."

At this point, Ron just closed his eyes, refusing to look at Harry. Apparently being asked to feel sympathy for a Malfoy was his tipping point. "I am done," he said slowly, his tone wounded. "Tell me nothing more. This can't be real life." Opening his eyes to shoot a glare at Harry, he staggered back to his desk to digest the information. And, unsurprisingly, the large, wilted looking sandwich he pulled from the recesses of a drawer. Harry would have laughed at his friend, but his head was still spinning. The news clearly explained the uproar outside, but Harry had no desire to go out and be drawn into the mess that no doubt waited out there, especially because as someone with more information on Malfoy, he would be attacked with questions. Unfairly, he really just wanted to interrogate Ron further, but the redhead was avoiding his eye and looking like he was doing his best to keep his mouth full of sandwich. Suddenly, something that seemed dazzlingly important occurred to him.

"Ron," he asked slowly, ignoring the way the other man immediately took a huge bite of his sandwich in alarm. "If all this is going on, where's Malfoy right now?" From what he had gathered from Ron's excited speech, at this point it seemed like aurors and deatheaters alike would be glad to see Malfoy's head on a pike. Even though he was not undercover anymore, Malfoy would still be in just as much danger. Harry sighed, wondering why this bothered him so much, but was slightly relieved when Ron caught his point immediately. He choked on his sandwich.

"Bloody fuck," he said after getting his breath back. For the first time he seemed to feel something other than anger for Malfoy. "Poor bastard. Yeah, Harry, I'd say Malfoy was undercover a bit too well to be comfortable with most ministry blokes at this point." He shook his head, eyebrows raised. "I gather Knolt hasn't left his side, though, so he'll be alright for now. Merlin knows what will happen to that little shit after Knolt goes back to work. Or even just leaves him to go to the bathroom. He'll be fucked."

Harry's despair increased, because he knew Ron was right. As high as his opinion was of his fellow aurors- most of them- he knew that if he hadn't known beforehand of Malfoy's circumstances he too would be less than welcoming to an apparant bloodthirsty and active deatheater, no matter who he brought in. Most aurors, considering Malfoy's personal reputation, would be downright hostile.

Harry exhaled sharply in frustration, running a hand through his hair. He felt helpless, and plagued by sudden worry for the well being of the wizard who had caused him nothing but utter confusion and discomfort. But the injustice of Malfoy's situtation could not be ignored. Harry just hoped that whomever's hands the prickly blond fell into would help him out.

Just as Harry was musing about Malfoy and Knolt's location- they were probably ensconced in the security division of the ministry, it would be the best place for them and Knolt would know better anyways than to take Malfoy back to his own quarters when they lay in the midst of the aggressive aurors- he was distracted by a sudden increase in the cacophony outside their office. Even Ron shot the door a sideways look. Annoyance flitted across Harry's face- they were probably organizing a mob for Malfoy right now, handing out pitchforks- and he stood up to close the door, feeling a slight head rush as his exhaustion from the night before caught up with him. Taking a moment to steady himself, one hand on his desk, Harry was still standing when the door to their office, slightly ajar, slammed open and a shockingly familiar platinum haired wizard, looking much the worse for wear in disheveled robes and sporting a large gash on his cheek but still carrying himself with his trademark flippant grace, strode in.

Harry froze, and whatever gears in his mind that were still turning ground to a complete halt. Without noticing the action, he practically fell back into his chair.

Looking quite at home, Draco Malfoy strode up to Harry's desk, ignoring the strangled noises from Ron's direction as he actually did choke on the remains of his sandwich, ignoring the two flustered security wizards that threw themselves into the room after him, ignoring the formidable figure of Abraham Knolt bringing up the rear and looking like a thunderbolt as he slammed the door behind them all. Hands in his pockets, Malfoy stood in front of his desk looking down at Harry, and cocked an eyebrow.

"Now, Potter, about that favor you mentioned. Way back when."


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks to the reviewers, I really appreciate it! Haha this one's a bit longer, still sort of setting up parts of the story I guess. **

Dazed, Harry was still trying to search his mind for some plausible explanation of why Draco Malfoy would be standing so calmly in front of him_, in his auror office_, for several beats after the man had finished speaking. He couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from his knowing gaze, from the silver eyes that seemed to have a direct effect on Harry's stomach, which felt as though it was doing lazy cartwheels. Suddenly, the image of Malfoy's lean body pressing him tightly up against the wall rose unbidden to Harry's mind, and he felt himself flush violently. Oh, hell.

Harry saw the smallest of smirks curve Malfoy's lips as the blond registered his flaming cheeks, which only made him blush even harder. How could Malfoy be standing there so complacently?

"Er... hello, Malfoy," Harry stammered at quickly, deciding he should try to draw attention away from his crimson complexion. He realized he was still looking at Malfoy's smirk- and his pink lips, which were imprinted avidly on Harry's memory- and moved his gaze upwards with effort. "I just heard... Uh, congratulations?" Harry refused to feel guilty for being so tongue tied. Malfoy had taken him completely by surprise. He did however feel the oddest regret that Malfoy would come in on one of the days after Harry had slept at the office. Scowling at this, he ignored the urge to flatten his hair or straighten his collar, and hoped that his cheeks were returning to normal.

Malfoy looked like he was accepting praise for throwing an especially elegant party, not for bringing in the most notorious deatheater the ministry had been chasing unsuccessfully for years. "Thank you, that's very kind," he said graciously. Harry would have sworn he saw at least one corner of Malfoy's lips peak upwards even more. Smug bastard.

In the background, he noticed Ron drawing in deep gasps of air as one of the security wizard clapped him nervously on the back. Knolt was regarding Malfoy and Harry expressionlessly, seeming content to let them take the lead. Aside from Malfoy, he looked the most calm in the room. Although Harry noticed that despite Malfoy's controlled manner, the blonde's chest was rising and falling as quickly as though he had just run a marathon, and he seemed slightly paler than what was normal for even his complexion. And there was that scratch on his cheek, still shining with blood. The second security wizard began to talk suddenly, too loudly. Harry couldn't seem to stop staring at Malfoy.

"What is the meaning of this, Auror Knolt?" the wizard demanded shrilly. "I cannot believe you would condone Draco Malfoy's presence in the one section of the ministry that offers him the most danger, of all places."

Knolt raised his eyebrows and gave a little shrug, as though to say, 'Not my idea.' And indeed, Malfoy was the one who answered him. Not turning away from Harry, he said casually, "I came down here because I wanted something a little more substantial than a security detail from _your _division." Special stress was placed on the last phrase, clearly indicating Malfoy's opinion of the security wizards. The one who had just spoken gasped in outrage. Malfoy didn't stop, though. "Excuse me, but I felt concerned that a branch that dealt mainly in protecting the magical objects of the paranoid and keeping stalkers from celebrities would be a bit unsuited to what kind of reaction I'm anticipating from my old crowd. And some of this new one."

The wizard's mouth worked for a few seconds. "So you thought coming here- _here_!- looking for, what, a personal bodyguard? You thought that was the brightest idea, considering your standing among the aurors? Let me tell you, security doesn't usually handle such high profile cases, yes, but at least we can offer you impartial protectors who have not been on the receiving end of your bloody curses, _Malfoy-_" he shouted angrily.

Malfoy ignored him completely. He took his hands out of his pockets to smooth them over his tousled robes and Harry noticed that they were shaking, but otherwise the blonde was the image of composure as he leaned over Harry's desk. "Listen, Potter, I'll cut to the chase. You mentioned that you would do what you could for me. Well, now you can follow through on that." His polite tone suddenly turned hard and flat, and there were no traces of the smirk from before. "I'm telling you I want a fucking auror detail for as long as it takes. I'm not going to be pawned off on second rate security fucks when there are just as likely to be fully trained aurors coming after me to settle a score as there are the shitload of deatheaters I've just screwed over. And as much as I hate to admit it, that little son of a bitch over there is right about one thing, that there's practically no one in your idiot department that isn't tempted to tear me apart right now. Except for you."

Was Malfoy saying that he wanted _him _for protection? Harry dragged a hand through his hair again, his fallback thinking gesture that unfortunately messed up his locks even more each time. God knows what his hair looked like after all this. He blinked several times, opened his mouth and closed it again. He had absolutely no idea how to respond. Harry peered around Malfoy to make eye contact with Knolt.

Meeting Harry's look, Knolt spoke for the first time. "I think," he began slowly, ignoring the security wizards. Just as he was continuing, Harry and Ron's door banged open one more time and Harry watched in bewilderment as the auror Joseph Honeycomb, of all people, strode into the crowded room.

"I think, considering Draco's contribution towards our cause, he should be entitled to demand- and receive- the highest protection he sees fit," Knolt finished. Suddenly icy, he turned to the newly arrived auror. "Joseph, _what_ is the meaning of this?"

Honeycomb shot Knolt a diffident, apologetic look, but to Harry he reeked of self satisfaction as he slowly looked around, taking in the situation. His eyes immediately locked on Malfoy, who had turned quickly to face the door when the other auror came in. Malfoy was now staring flatly at Honeycomb, but stayed silent as Knolt berated him.

"Abraham, my apologies," Honeycomb said, his voice too smooth. He dragged his eyes away from Malfoy for an instant to shoot Knolt a meaningful glance. "But I couldn't help but overhear what you were discussing-" At this, Knolt's face darkened again. Harry wondered if Honeycomb had been actually crouched outside the door, or had slightly higher means of eavesdropping. He felt suddenly justified in his dislike of the elder auror. "- and I have to say I agree with you and Mr. Malfoy. He should have the highest protection available." Knowing that all eyes on the room were on him, he blatantly moved his gaze to rack Harry up and down, lingering on his hair- Harry didn't even want to think on what it must look like- on his slept in robes, the dark circles under his eyes, and then confidently turned back to Knolt. "Which is why I'm prepared to offer myself as a personal security option for him."

Harry's eyes widened. Honeycomb had been part of the group in the office that had led what were almost _crusades_ against Malfoy. And maybe Harry wasn't being forgiving enough, but he didn't think with a background like that Honeycomb could just waltz in and offer Malfoy his own services with any degree of sincerity. But Malfoy wouldn't know about that. And if someone were to right now, measure the young, sleep deprived, messy Harry against the elder, sleek, and composed Honeycomb, Harry himself had no doubts about the clear choice. Desperately his eyes shot to Malfoy and his lips parted- _I don't think that would be such a good idea_- when he was stopped by Malfoy taking a step towards Honeycomb.

No, Harry thought in horror. Knolt wouldn't allow this to happen, right? But he had a lot more faith in Honeycomb, they had known each other for years. Harry stood up suddenly, as though he was about to physically stop Malfoy from turning to Honeycomb, but froze in place again when Malfoy addressed the other auror.

"Joseph, is it?" Malfoy said softly, smiling coolly. Harry noticed Honeycomb twitch in annoyance at Malfoy's forward use of his christian name. "You believe yourself better qualified than Potter to protect me?" he asked curiously. Honeycomb nodded curtly, looking as though he could barely restrain himself from rolling his eyes at such an obvious question.

"Far better. Potter has some minor achievements, but I have been an auror for a much longer time, and have dealt with greater challenges." Harry narrowed his eyes, but the other auror was completely ignoring him. Malfoy spun back to Harry for a moment. He seemed to be suddenly perky, or at least feigning a lightness of spirit, as though the entire argument was an amusing joke to him.

"Why, he doesn't think much of you at all! I'm sorry to tell you, Potter, that your defeat of the Dark Lord has been relegated to a minor achievement." The scorn in his tone was soon obvious, and Honeycomb sensed it. He flushed a little. Harry felt a little off balance, as he had earlier when he had been defending Malfoy to Ron. It was even more unexpected to find the situation reversed now, however; had Malfoy actually dealt him a backhand compliment?

"It is a lifetime of service and experience that makes an auror, not one act before one is even trained in the profession-" he started to argue, when Malfoy rudely cut him off.

"Maybe," Malfoy hypothesized into the air, "You mean it is the ability of an auror to barge into rooms and interrupt his superiors that makes an auror, in which case yes, you would be far better qualified."

"My _superiors_! If you think yourself superior to me, you little-" the auror spluttered with rage, but that was all he could get in before Malfoy talked over him again.

"I truly appreciate the offer, but I'm afraid I'll have to decline it. I feel our relationship might be somewhat compromised by past events." Unconsciously, Harry gave a small sigh of relief. "I was just wondering, though. When you volunteered, did you really think I wouldn't remember that it was me who gave you that attractive scar?"

Harry felt even more confused. As far as he knew, Honeycomb had neither a scar nor anything personal against Malfoy. He sensed the others in the room were looking at Honeycomb curiously as well, because no scar was visible. But with Malfoy's words, Honeycomb's hand immediately darted to caress his neck, and Harry realized with a rush of understanding that there was indeed the edge of what looked like a scar peeking surreptitiously out from his collar. It was truly nasty looking, a deep angry black that seemed to protrude from the surface of the skin, but it was the sort of mark that someone had to know about beforehand to recognize its presence. Which made it extremely doubtful that Malfoy was lying.

Honeycomb's expression, which had been growing more and more angry, twisted into a snarl of absolute rage at Malfoy's taunt, but he didn't dispute it. He took a step forward, but before he could do anything else, the thunderous voice of Knolt stopped him in his tracks.

"Joseph_, get out of here_," Knolt said dangerously. "Just go home. You have no idea what you have almost done." Knolt looked more serious, more stony, than Harry had ever seen him.

Called back, Honeycomb restrained himself with visible effort and then turned towards the door. Malfoy's smile widened and he clucked his tongue at the retreating figure and said, "Good boy." Harry could have actually hit the arrogant blond- he seemed to be doing his best to increase the tension in the already electrified room.

Honeycomb stiffened immediately, and spun around. He shot one last malevolent look at Harry and Malfoy.

"You'll regret this, Malfoy." Honeycomb's voice was practically shaking. "None of your excuses can just _erase_ what you have inflicted on us. You will not get away with what you've done."

"Funny, I seem to have done just that. We took a little field trip to the law offices before we came here, and now my slate is cleaner than yours, auror," Malfoy drawled without interest.

Honeycomb bared his teeth in rage, but Knolt repeated forcefully, "_Joseph._" He left, finally, slamming the door shut behind him and leaving the remaining people in the room in standing in stunned silence.

Ron spoke at last. "Bloody hell," he said weakly.

The two security wizards sported expressions that indicated they agreed wholeheartedly with Ron's sentiments. The quieter one looked a little green. With a feeble, "Well, if he won't be needing us, then, we really must be off..." he darted towards the door and was quickly followed by his colleague.

Completely unbothered by these departures, and acting as if threats of vindication and revenge were just another everyday minor annoyance, Malfoy turned to Knolt. "So. Before we were so callously interrupted, you were getting ready to tell Potter that he's privileged enough to get to be my new bodyguard for the time being, were you not?"

Harry couldn't believe Malfoy had no reaction to what had just occurred. He stared at him dumbly for a few seconds, but quickly flared up as he heard the blond blatantly talk over his head. God, was Malfoy completely indifferent to basic social courtesies? All the airs of sophistication and suavity seemed to just barely mask an arrogance that was his to the utter core. "Hey, Malfoy," he said, more roughly than he had intended. "I'm right _here_."

"And you're supervisor is over here, Potter, so you really might as well not even be in this room at all for all the impact your choice has on the matter." He still didn't even bother to face Harry, merely tossed the remark over his shoulder.

"Actually, Malfoy, I do have a choice, about whether I want to follow your prat arse around for as long as it amuses you to have me at your fucking beck and call!" Harry yelled. He felt fury beginning to slide back into its familiar place in the back of his throat. He clenched his fists. It seemed like despite whatever had happened between them, he and Malfoy were right back to where they had always been, completely unable to tolerate each other. For a moment back there, especially when the other auror had lunged at Malfoy, Harry had actually considered the idea of taking Malfoy's perilous security into his hands. He couldn't believe he had been so foolish to ever think that a situation like that between them could work.

"You want to talk to me about _choice_, Potter?" Malfoy hissed, finally spinning around to glare at Harry. His eyes were darker than the auror had seen them yet, and for the first time there was true venom crackling in his voice. "Because for too fucking long have I been stuck in _utter hell_, deprived of the _choice_ to get out, because you goddamn, shit for brains aurors couldn't catch Snow even when my information handed him to you on a fucking platter! So while you got to go back to your comfortable fucking flat each night I got to go back to a den of deatheaters, who, if they ever had the slightest fucking reason to suspect what I was there for, the slightest whimsical fucking notion, would be doing me a favor by killing me quickly. Yeah, my nights were real _fucking_ restful-"

Harry saw that Malfoy's icy composure had finally cracked as he was reminded of what he had endured within the deatheaters, but the auror didn't feel any triumph. Instead, he instantly felt his own anger receding, as much as he fought it, as his conscience insisted he see the unfairness of what Malfoy had had to go through.

Once started, Malfoy seemed to have no inclination of ending his tirade, and was leaning closer to Harry so as to better shout in his face, but he suddenly cut off his sentence as Knolt walked over and put a compassionate hand on his shoulder. He shot an agonized look at the elder deatheater who returned it with one of sadness and understanding, and a slight squeeze. Harry felt oddly left out, and suddenly guilty for flaring up at Malfoy. Malfoy had finally averted his burning gaze to the floor, and it was now Knolt who acted the mediator and met Harry's eyes.

"Harry, of course it is completely your choice of whether you want to sacrifice your own personal freedom for the safety of Malfoy-" Merlin, the man had the effect of reducing Harry to a child before a disappointed parent, the shame in his stomach was so great. "… But I think what Draco was trying to imply is that, as someone who has had the time to accept his identity as an undercover- and don't blame yourself, it is by no means an easy thing to do- you are simply his only option right now. He is, quite simply, in the utmost peril, and even a combination of the wards we can offer and the protection you, as a fully trained auror and quite a talented one at that, can provide him might barely be enough."

Harry was practically squirming. He knew that most bosses would not give him a fraction of the choices Knolt did. "And if I refuse?" he asked stubbornly. At these words, Malfoy looked up again at Harry, his face tight but expressionless. Knolt sighed.

"If you refuse, you will of course be unhindered by the responsibility to accompany Draco anywhere he is outside wards, and you will soon gain your right to work in the field again, whereas you would be understandably limited to strictly desk work otherwise. And by all means, you will be a valuable addition to any mission, but I hope you comprehend that with this security detail you are in a position to have a much greater and more needed impact. Because, I am deeply embarrassed to admit, Draco is correct in saying that the other aurors with the skill to protect him are also those who are most prejudiced against him. If you refuse, he will be forced to make do with a much lower level of security." Knolt seemed to be doing his best to give Harry a totally unbiased prediction. He felt his heart sinking slowly, because he already knew, had known since Malfoy mentioned it, really, what his decision would be.

He couldn't look at the blonde anymore, couldn't stand to see the expression that was half anger and half hope in those guarded eyes, so Harry kept his gaze staring straight at Knolt.

"I'll do it, of course I'll do it," Harry said with a sigh. He couldn't believe he was actually signing himself over to the one person in the world that got under his skin like it was his job. He couldn't believe that this was the same person who had caused Harry's entire world to shake like a leaf with a kiss. Kisses and behavior that it seemed both of them were willing to chalk up to adrenaline of the moment and frustration bordering on insanity at the time, neither of which explained the way Harry had felt his heart flip over when Malfoy entered the room today. "But first I'd like to-"

"There's that moral compass kicking in," Malfoy said snidely, cutting him off. His voice was laced with the deepest scorn, but there was also a hint of something like relief. "Potter, our hero."

Harry closed his eyes for a moment. He could practically see the next few weeks of this stretched out before him already, and had the strongest urge to start screaming. But there was one thing he had to deal with first, to get out of the way, or he knew that any of his hopes for sanity would be lost for sure. Taking a deep breath, he continued, ignoring the blonde. "I was saying, first I'd like a minute to speak to Malfoy, uh, alone." He had to talk to Malfoy about what had happened between them.

Malfoy said nothing, but Knolt nodded, seeming too relieved by Harry's agreement to question him. "Of course," he said, and with a look at Ron, turned and hovered in the doorway to wait for him. Ron staggered to his feet. He had seemed too completely dumbstruck to say anything the entire time, or else had been wise enough not to try and get involved. Now, though, he shot a concerned glance at Harry and Malfoy.

"Harry, are you sure-"

"Relax, Weasley. I promise I'll play nice, just for you." Malfoy had apparently fully recovered his composure, with an extra dose of insolence.

Ron rolled his eyes, and said, "That's not who I was worried about." But he did follow Knolt, saying barely audibly under his breath to him as the left the room, "Ten sickles Harry hits him. Maybe eleven."

Harry gave a deep sigh and looked at Malfoy. The blonde was standing there complacently, but his eyes seemed extra bright as they gazed at him.

"Well, Potter, here we are. And you have me all to yourself."


	7. Chapter 7

And then there were two, Harry thought to himself. He pressed a hand to his forehead, as though that might help abate the pounding headache he felt there. Really, if he had known all this was going to happen today, he would have made an effort to get a night of sleep. He shot a glance at Malfoy.

God, that look he was giving him. The blonde was once more smug, but feigned puzzlement. "What's on your mind, Potter?" he asked quizzically, but the smile was audible in his voice. Harry blushed. Apparently Malfoy wasn't going to give him any help.

"You know what's on my mind, Malfoy," Harry growled. With an effort, he calmed his voice, although the grin that split over Malfoy's face didn't help. "I just think we should, er, clear the air. About, you know." Harry fancied he could feel the heat emanating from his skin. Dear god. But this had to be better than not talking about it at all, and feeling this way when he was constantly around Malfoy in the weeks to come, hopefully.

"You're being a bit vague, Potter." Malfoy slowly eased himself around Harry's desk so they were on the same side. Harry looked at him warily. Meeting his eyes, Malfoy moved even closer, and laughed out loud when Harry quickly sat down in his chair and scooted back to keep some distance between them. Perched contentedly on Harry's desk, he regarded him with dancing silver eyes. Hell.

"Yeah, fuck you Malfoy, you know exactly what I'm talking about," Harry scowled. Verbally torturing Harry this way seemed to do wonders to put Malfoy in high spirits, nevermind his angry and nervous state before. "You just want to make me say it. Fine. I just want to know what we're supposed to do about having bloody kissed!" The blonde flashed a shameless grin for an instant at so discomfiting Harry, but then acted extremely bored.

"God, Potter, you're such a girl. You would be so fixated on having kissed me. What, was I your very first?" he said jeeringly, and ignored Harry's splutters. "I'll tell you exactly what we're going to do about it. We're going to forget about it, because it was nothing, absolutely nothing, and has no impact on what I think of you now. I still regard you as the same pompous, uncivilized idiot as ever before, and I swear, if I hadn't been in such a fucked situation, I never would have signed myself up to spend any amount of time with you for all the gold in the world. You're a last resort, Potter, and don't fool yourself into thinking you're anything more."

"Fine!" snapped Harry, feeling more frustrated than ever. "Excellent! And don't preach to me Malfoy, this was your brilliant idea, us together. And it wasn't my first, you prat!"

"Shocking," said Malfoy, under his breath, but Harry wasn't finished.

"… And, you kissed me." Malfoy openly sneered at this.

"All right, Potter, pack up and go live with some death eaters for a few years, then tell me how clear your judgment is. Or keep telling yourself it meant something, I don't give a shit. Seriously, I think you need to try getting laid."

"I- I'm dating someone! God, Malfoy," Harry said hotly. He had never met anyone with the same propensity for saying anything, no matter how inappropriate, without batting an eye. And it got to Harry, a lot. The last thing he had expected to do was discuss his sex life with Draco Malfoy, and here they were.

And it wasn't even a defensive lie. Harry was technically casually dating someone at this time. He had met Rebecca, a Healer, when he was at the hospital after being wounded by the unknown deatheater's spell. Usually he rarely dated because of his unavoidable fame, which made it hard to have a real relationship, but Rebecca had been different. After the first day of getting over the strangeness of meeting him, she had acted completely normal, even teasing, towards him. Since then, they had gone on several dates, and the relationship had made Harry's days a bit brighter. Until he found himself trying to explain that to Malfoy, who apparently had no soul, that is.

"Well, that is a surprise. Who's the famous Potter's boyfriend?" Malfoy drawled. Harry was confused for a moment, and thought he had misspoken. But then with a shock of realization that sent all the blood right to his cheeks again he knew Malfoy assumed he was gay.

Harry had never even been with another guy. The idea of it confused him; in his opinion, girls were hard enough to understand. At least there was some sort of a roadmap to follow; be a gentleman, pay for dinner, bring flowers, etc. Whereas Harry was sure he would feel completely ludicrous asking another man out on a date; half the time he felt ridiculous asking women out, after all. However, Harry knew better than to say he was straight. While he liked women, he found himself just as often drawn to a nice looking bloke. He was often too shy to do much about it, though. The closest he had ever gotten to fulfilling some of his fantasies was one steamy night with a very, very attractive man, after Harry had consumed more alcohol that he normally did in an entire month to work up the courage. However, they had only gone as far as making out and furiously groping, first at the bar, then in the cab to the other man's flat, and then on an unfamiliar couch. To Harry, whom the whole experience was new and heady enough to drive him wild easily, things could not have been moving fast enough. But just as they were stripping off their clothes the unknown man's flatmate, and apparent boyfriend, had walked in on them. There had been fighting, cursing, and crying, and Harry had actually fled the scene. It had completely horrified him, and thinking of it even now made him uncomfortable. Merlin, if he had been in that situation Malfoy would probably have laughed and kept going. Harry, however, had never been more embarrassed in his entire life, and used that incidence to convince himself that girls were way more worth the effort.

"No, fuck, I- she's a _girl_, she's a girl. I started dating her a little over a month ago, she's really, uh, calmed me down, she's great," Harry said hurriedly, babbling. Malfoy looked him up and down appraisingly.

"Huh. Not to bring up that-which-must-not-be-mentioned, Potter, but I think I distinctly got a few not-straight vibes from you. Like when you shoved your tongue down my throat. Don't blush, really, it was quite endearing."

This conversation had been the worst idea in Harry's entire life. He actually covered his face with his hands. "If it's not to be mentioned, don't damn well go ahead and mention it!" he spit out through clenched teeth. "And yeah, I like girls, sorry to disappoint you!" Finally, he managed to get an insult headed back towards Malfoy. And no need to discuss his precarious sexuality with him, either. As far as Malfoy needed to know, he was straight.

Malfoy frowned. "I don't like that insinuation, Potter, especially after you were the one to-"

Harry quickly cut him off. "This conversation is over. Everything is forgotten, like you suggested. Fuck, I just want to go home, Malfoy, this is turning into the worst fucking day of my life," Harry moaned. Dear god. An indefinite future in close quarters with Draco Malfoy. Harry was going to jump of the tallest building he could find.

Malfoy sighed, but quite willingly stood up and backed away from Harry, like a cat abruptly leaving a mouse in boredom. "I won't argue with that, I'd like to go somewhere with as few aurors as possible, I swear, you all practically reek of stupidity. Besides, annoying you is too easy."

Harry stood up too. "Then when don't you- for the love of god- stop it?" After all that had happened that day, it still wasn't quite time for work to end yet, but Harry figured Knolt would be willing to cut him some slack and let him off early, at least to get Malfoy acquainted to his new living arrangements. Which would be Harry's one bedroom apartment. Fuck. He truly hadn't thought this through. He started to gather up his things, past the point of caring. Malfoy waited by the door.

"Oh, it's still fun. Especially when you turn those delightful colors."

"Well, I'm certainly glad you're enjoying yourself," Harry sighed. Despite himself, he felt opposing emotions about this conversation all of a sudden. Yes, Malfoy had done nothing but mock him, but in a way that seemed to make light of everything that had dwelled so heavily on Harry's mind for so long. Nothing, absolutely nothing, he had said of it. And it had left Harry with an unreadable feeling in his chest. But it had also returned them to their familiar positions, which Harry was oddly grateful for. Yes, an arrogant and insinuating Malfoy was bad enough, but weirdly Harry actually found comfort in these roles of theirs.

"I am, aren't I," Malfoy said, and his joking tone had an edge of sheer surprise in it. After this he went oddly quiet, but fastened his eyes curiously upon Harry. It was so different from all of his heavy lidded glares and dismissive glances from before that it made the auror uncomfortable, and he quickly hurried past Malfoy, out the door.

He didn't forget, once they had exited, that he had just signed on to act as Malfoy's guard. It was just a strange sensation to feel cautious in a setting so familiar to Harry, but he knew despite that the offices of the aurors contained some of Malfoy's most bitter enemies. Figuring the best option right now was to just try to sneak out, Harry grabbed Malfoy's hand and began to lead him out of the offices.

* * *

><p>They had made it back to Harry's flat without much incident, but Draco Malfoy's once playful mood seemed to have been greatly sobered by the reality of his peril. Harry, who openly held his wand the entire time and had curtly told Malfoy to do the same, had stared down aurors who met their eyes too long or glowered at Malfoy's wand, and took him on a long, rambling way out of the offices to a warded exit area. As soon as they left any room they could hear the tide of whispers swell behind them. Both men outwardly ignored it, but they each grew icier, the few words they spoke to each other becoming more clipped.<p>

Harry tried to convince himself that the unfriendly reception to Malfoy was likely limited to the auror office, which had the most personal vendetta against him, but he still felt depressed. As much as Harry hated the prat himself, he could still respect the blonde's commitment and achievement. Although succeeding where the aurors had failed would be to some the equivalent of a slap in the face. It was a mess.

When they had reached Harry's apartment at last Malfoy had surfaced from his fugue long enough to sneer and offer some orthodox comment about its lack of class. A little irritated, Harry had bit back a reply but had slammed the door after following Malfoy in, but to his embarrassment the blonde looked back and briefly smirked as though he knew exactly what was running through Harry's mind.

Malfoy didn't want the food or drink Harry offered. After he had stalked around the entirety of the flat, muttering to himself, he had come back and stood in front of Harry as though waiting for him to do something. Harry was somewhat at a loss. He scratched his head, and then looked around his living room. The room was the largest in the flat, and the most cozy, with a plushly upholstered loveseat and matching armchair facing a fireplace that had a muggle TV mounted above it, a thick rug, and shelves that held all manner of knickknacks being the most prominent pieces of furniture. Looking dubiously at what now seemed like a very small sofa, Harry said hesitantly, "I suppose you'll have to be on the couch, then. Is that all right? Don't worry, I'll put a few enlargement charms on it."

"Fine, Potter," Malfoy said curtly. "I suppose that will suffice. You know, my manor has over a dozen guest bedrooms, all of which are larger than this… living space."

Harry grit his teeth. "And we're not at your precious manor because that's the first place your old friends would look for you." It had also been used heavily during Lucius's time as a death eater, and even the younger Malfoy could not say for sure it was completely invulnerable to them now. "So I suggest you take the couch and find a way to deal with it. It's a nice couch, anyways," he added defensively.

"Dear Merlin, you do have absolutely no taste," Malfoy said under his breath, but Harry caught it anyways. He bristled, but Malfoy went on. "And thank you for offering, Potter, I would very much like to take a shower and get out of these repulsive robes. I'll go and see if I can squeeze myself into your miniscule bathroom, shall I?"

Harry blushed a little. "Sorry. Uh, yeah, sure… let me know if you need anything." He should be the better man here, he told himself, not that Malfoy deserved his hospitality.

As Malfoy stalked off and the sound of water running commenced moments later, Harry set to work on the couch. It took him almost the entire time the blonde was in the shower- which was saying something- but he was finally pleased with the result, although a little mournful that he had warped his comfortable couch into queen bed like proportions. Topping it off with some extra pillows and blankets, Harry then went to his bedroom to change into his pajamas. He was so eager for sleep by now, it was unsettling. Usually his insomnia could persist for days, with Harry loath to lie in bed and wait for the morning, but it seemed like the craziness of the day had just taken everything out of him.

If Malfoy hadn't been there, Harry would've just worn boxers, but feeling self conscious he dug some soft black sweatpants out of his drawers. Before he could put on a shirt to go with it, he suddenly heard Malfoy's insistent voice calling his name and he quickly walked to the bathroom, wondering what could be wrong.

"Oi, Potter!" the blonde said again. He was standing in the doorway, a towel wrapped around his waist, and the tattered robes he had been wearing were in a pile at his feet. His face was cold, but when Harry reached him, he blinked, and something seemed to slide off his face.

"What do you want, Malfoy," Harry asked curiously. Feeling suddenly awkward, he resolutely fixed his eyes on the blonde's face, not his slender, chiseled frame, still covered with beads of water. Then he noticed that Malfoy's own silver gaze wasn't meeting Harry's; the other man's eyes had slid down, sweeping over Harry's lithe, athletic figure. For a full moment Malfoy didn't even reply. He was staring at something, and Harry realized that his strange blue scar on his side was showing. Malfoy probably thought it was disgusting, doubtless. Then Harry crossed his arms in embarrassment, and the silver eyes snapped up to meet his again. Malfoy seemed a little flushed.

"What? Oh, I was wondering, Potter," he said, and his voice was different, too, carrying much less bite. He seemed distracted. "You wouldn't happen to have any extra clothes?" He gestured to the sodden robes at his feet in explanation.

"Oh, right," said Harry. "Yeah, hold on, I'll find something for you." He allowed his eyes to run over Malfoy, telling himself it was to judge if they would fit into the same clothes. They were both tall and on the thinner side, so Harry turned to grab something from his drawers. "And do you want me to wash those for you, so you'll have something to wear tomorrow?" he added before he left, indicating the robes Malfoy had been wearing.

By way of answer Malfoy picked up his wand and flicked it. The pile went up in flames. A moment later, another flick cleared away the ash. Malfoy looked at Harry's pitying gaze, blinked, and turned away. Harry quickly went back to his room and grabbed some clothes from his wardrobe, throwing on a shirt himself as he did so. As he waited for Malfoy to change, Harry returned to the living room and sat on the enlarged couch. He felt oddly flustered, and dizzy, although he wasn't sure if that was from his exhaustion or what had just happened. Was this what it was going to be like, living with Malfoy? A thousand mood swings, different every minute, but each one confusing Harry more than the last? Harry refused to admit to himself that anything had passed between them a moment later, though, remembering the blonde's own words earlier that day. Absolutely nothing.

Malfoy seemed to be in the same frame of mind when he emerged from the bathroom, a scowl already on his face. Just looking at it made Harry feel even more exhausted. He sensed another tirade coming on. Sure enough, Malfoy began to pace up and down in front of Harry, who leaned back on the couch-slash-bed to make himself comfortable. The one night of all nights, Harry thought distractedly in irritation, hardly hearing what Malfoy was saying as he cracked another enormous yawn, that I actually want to sleep and this happens.

"Listen, Potter, I just want to set a few things straight. I was thinking it over, just now."

Harry noticed idly that Malfoy himself had eschewed the selection of trousers he had offered him, and was clad in only a t-shirt and a pair of Harry's navy cotton boxers. How come the blonde could pull it off and still look amazing, and act so damn confident? Harry was sure that if he had worn his clothes like that Malfoy would have laughed at him.

"There are certain necessities that I expect you to supply for me. First of all, clothes. I refuse to run around in your tawdry, unflattering rags."

Harry felt like pointing out that Malfoy had been the one to set fire to his own robes, and that, really, he looked more than flattered in the clothes he had on now, but he was feeling too sleepy. Better just let Malfoy talk himself out of whatever fit he was in now. Harry yawned again.

"Second, you need to take me shopping for other necessities as well. I require toiletries for my grooming, as your single bottle of shampoo is extremely lacking. No wonder your hair is a bird's nest."

If he had been less tired, maybe Harry would have gotten angry. But the couch was so comfortable. How could Malfoy insult it like he did? Harry stretched out across it, just to test that it was comfortable everywhere. It did not disappoint.

"I also require entertainment. If I'm just going to sit here all day while you're at work, I'll need something to do, books or potions, say, to keep busy. I'll probably have to move some of your stuff around to make room. Also, you'll have to accompany me out on excursions when you do get home, so I don't go utterly stir crazy in this matchbox."

Harry had never realized that taking Malfoy in would be so like adopting a new puppy. Feeding him, grooming him, taking him on walks. He would have giggled if he hadn't been yawning again. He found himself blinking quite a bit. Where, he wondered to himself, because he didn't want to encourage Malfoy at all, was the blonde expecting to go on "excursions" when the larger half of the wizarding world was out to get him?

Harry buried his nose into one of the pillows, peering upwards at the pacing blonde, noticing but not really caring that he seemed to be blinking an awful lot all of a sudden. What was the wizard even saying right now? Could he possibly still be going on about hair products, or had he moved on to redecorating Harry's apartment by this point? Impossible to say, when there was such a pleasant, fuzzy feeling sinking over Harry, muffling his senses, making his breaths deep and even effortlessly, as though Harry had not fought for a fraction of this for entire nights before….

Unaware of it, he sunk deep into sleep as the exhaustion of the day and the sheer unreality of having Draco Malfoy sitting in Harry's pajamas finally wore him past the point of resistance.


	8. Chapter 8

Harry's eyes snapped open, but he was greeted with only darkness. For a minute or two he was completely disoriented. Then the entire day came rushing up to meet him, not a bad dream after all. He realized, not without some accompanying humiliation, that he- he, Harry, who usually had to take bitter, complex potions to coax his thrumming mind into unconsciousness at night- had conked out right in front of Draco Malfoy. While he was talking to him. On the makeshift bed Harry had constructed for him not an hour before. To be honest, Harry was surprised the blonde hadn't jolted him awake immediately. And now where was he?

After his eyes had adjusted to the darkness- which was incomplete, as a small light in the kitchen was still on- Harry cast his eyes around. His gaze was immediately caught by brilliant platinum hair sprayed across a pillow that rested against Harry's leg. With a shock, he realized Malfoy hadn't taken his own bedroom, or even the armchair, but had curled up with a blanket and pillow in the small space on the couch that Harry had not taken up. Gazing on the pale, unconscious face, he felt a wave of overwhelming guilt, and cringed. Some host he was.

In peaceful rest Malfoy's face was minus his typical scowl and was astonishingly handsome, Harry couldn't help but notice. His eyes lingered on the high, elegant cheekbones, the straight nose, the curved pink lips. His smooth, pale skin seemed to glow in the half light, his white blond hair even more so. Everything about him gave off an air of aristocratic at its finest and most unattainable, whispered that only generations of the highest breeding could have crafted the perfection of these features.

Harry's eyes followed the curve of Malfoy's neck down to his narrow shoulders, his catlike frame curled into a question mark. It was strange to see him in anything as casual as a T-shirt.

Harry abruptly shook his head, tearing his eyes away. No, what was strange was to have Draco Malfoy asleep with his head practically in Harry's lap. His guilt hitting him full blast, Harry began to pull himself up, as slowly as possible. He would get out of here, give Malfoy a little more room, and go to his bed, and try to sleep there. Hopefully he wouldn't be teased too horribly the next morning.

Harry eased one leg off the couch. The real trouble would be the other one, which Malfoy rested his pillow on. More than anything, Harry didn't want to wake the blonde up, not when he looked so damn peaceful and nice for once. Gritting his teeth, he began to slide his leg out, inch by inch.

Unexpectedly Malfoy moved in his sleep, shifting on the bed. His pink lips parted, but nothing but a small sigh escaped them. Harry froze. As a result of his movement, Malfoy was now even more firmly on top of his leg. He cursed.

Again, he began to retrieve his limb from under the blonde. This time he got further, taking long moments to pause every so often, but suddenly Malfoy moved again and actually gave a small whimper of protest, though his eyes remained closed. Harry stopped moving in confusion, terrified he had woken him up. He felt the blonde settle back into his original position on his leg.

Over and over, Harry tried his best to subtly move out from under Malfoy, only to be stopped by the other boy moving or moaning, his originally smooth brow creasing, and nothing would stop it except for Harry halting his escape. He was utterly perplexed.

Finally figuring that enough was enough, better to rip off the bandage than peel slowly, Harry resolved to just pull away and ignore Malfoy's sleepy protests, as he seemed to quickly fall back asleep immediately after anyways.

He yanked his leg away, wincing as the pillow that supported Malfoy's head fell a few inches, and, ignoring the quiet whimper, stood up by the side of the couch, staring down at the boy. However, far from returning to sleep, as Harry had expected, he seemed even more agitated. Blindly, he had stretched out a hand to chase Harry's retreat, and now these fingers were flexing uselessly. Soon, his entire body was convulsing, at first very slowly, but becoming more and more frantic. Harry was frozen in place. Then Malfoy's eyelids started to flutter, and instead of a moan, he rasped out a very soft "Potter," and in complete alarm Harry, who didn't know what else to do, resumed his seat and placed a hesitant hand on the blonde's shoulder.

The boy seemed to calm at this touch, and, looking at him carefully, Harry was sure he was still asleep and that all his motion had just been instinctive rather than conscious. Either way Harry was flummoxed. He was torn, between indulging in his natural aversion for Malfoy- which admittedly, with the man looking so soft and calm as he did now, was at a rather low ebb- and leaving, him waking up be damned, or staying in this incredibly awkward position because it seemed that was what it would take to not wake Malfoy up. He still felt like he owed the blonde for having fallen asleep there in the first place, Harry ruminated grimly; this entire thing was really his own fault. After all the hell Malfoy had been through he deserved the rest.

Realizing he had already made the decision to stay Harry settled back with a sigh, propping his head up on the arm rest, and trying to wiggle over so Malfoy would have as much room as possible. However, as soon as he put an inch of space between them the wizard would roll over until it was closed again. It was strange to say the least, but after a while of stillness it began to bother Harry less and less, and he merely lay there comfortably, watching with sleepy eyes the quiet rise and fall of Malfoy's chest.

He had thought that, given the circumstances, he actually had a legitimate excuse to not be able to fall asleep this time, and it had made him slightly mournful as it had been positively delicious to fall asleep so easily before. Like drinking water after a drought. But surely he would feel too awkward to sleep now, he must, with Malfoy's head practically in his lap.

Yet it turned out to be comforting to have someone there with him rather than the other way around, and before he knew it, Harry's eyes were fluttering shut. The last image he had was of the top of Malfoy's silky, glowing hair.

* * *

><p>When Harry awoke again, light was streaming in through the windows and playing across his face, but what had really broken his rest was the loud, steady banging on his door. Muttering a few choices curses Harry rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses- which he had slept in, he realized ruefully, that meant there would be embarrassing red marks on his face, how perfect- and tried to jump up to go open the door. The weight of Malfoy on his lower body stopped his ascent, and Harry ended up falling back down, jostling the blonde horribly in the process. The banging continued.<p>

"Coming!" Harry roared, as loud as he could, then instantly slapped a hand to his face as the saw the blonde scrunch up his nose, which was suddenly no longer peaceful, and moan, pulling a pillow over his head. Damn. He had to get used to this whole roommate situation, it appeared. He was still looking guiltily at the blonde when Malfoy's eyes blinked open, peering out from beneath the pillow and meeting Harry's gaze.

Harry froze. Shit. What was Malfoy going to say about last night, about Harry taking his bed and not even having the decency to leave it? But the blonde seemed strangely subdued, as though embarrassed himself, and just as quickly as he had met Harry's eyes he looked away again.

Harry took the hint and stood up, this time successfully, and stumbled hurriedly over to the door. The banging had slowed now, with one lusty knock at a time, over and over again. Shaking his head, Harry grabbed his wand and slid the door open a few inches to see who it was.

It turned out to be two pink cheeked security wizards, younger than Harry even, looking completely unapologetic for having woken him. Harry had been expecting them, actually, per an agreement arrived at yesterday; the wizards would come as soon as possible to place the highest possible wards on Harry's apartment for the safety of Malfoy, so he would be secure in the flat even if Harry left. He was promised that they wouldn't arrive until at least midday, however, and had been instructed to take the day off to wait for them and make sure everything ran smoothly. Yet here they were, before Harry would have even gotten to the office. Rubbing his bleary eyes, Harry gave short, curt answers to their questions and moved aside to let them in.

They worked quickly and thoroughly, and seemed annoyed whenever Harry tried to ask a question or make a suggestion, so after a few minutes he just shrugged and went into the bathroom to take a shower, after checking on Malfoy again. The blonde was lying motionlessly on the couch, apparently asleep, but Harry doubted anyone could sleep through the loud bangs of the security wizards setting up the wards. He suspected Malfoy's apparent unconsciousness was directly related to the hungry, curious looks both the wizards kept shooting his way.

By the time Harry was dressed again they had finished up, but were hanging around the living room, trying to appear casual. Their outright staring at Malfoy ruined the effect. Walking back into the room, Harry noticed that Malfoy had given up even trying to feign being asleep and was staring straight back at them, his eyes boiling. This caused them to alternatively look away and back again, blushing each time. Harry interrupted this by clearing his throat, and moving to herd the pair towards the door. "Thank you, thank you, thanks for your time," he mumbled, "I'm sure you must be going." The door shut behind them with a loud click, and Harry leaned against it for a moment with a sigh.

The day suddenly stretched ahead of him, and the task that he had expected to take up the most of it was already done. Now it was just him and Malfoy again. Surely now the blonde would start to lay into him about last night. Gritting his teeth, Harry turned back to the couch. To his surprise, it was empty. Looking around, he saw a flash of platinum hair ducking into his bedroom. What the…? Harry trotted towards it.

"Malfoy, can I ask what you're doing in my bedroom?" Harry asked as soon as he entered. Rather lamely, as the blonde was blatantly digging through his drawers at this point, so it was quite obvious what he was doing. Still, though. It was an invasion of privacy!

"I thought I might find myself something to wear for shopping," Malfoy said in an utterly bored tone. Even though he was turned away, Harry could practically hear the usual sneer on his face.

"You could just ask me!"

"Well, after last night, I haven't really had you pegged as the courtesy type," the blonde huffed, and Harry winced again. Here it comes, he thought bitterly. He prepared himself for a thousand innuendos and insults, but surprisingly, that was as far as Malfoy went.

Now the blonde was taking what looked like every single item out of Harry's wardrobe, holding it up critically, and tossing it aside.

"Hang on," said Harry after a moment. "What do you mean shopping? Who said anything about shopping?"

"I did," the blonde said. He looked at the tag on one of Harry's shirts, and laughed aloud, then flung it into the small pile. "You can't possibly expect me to continue to wear your wretched clothes. Besides, I thought our day had just opened up?"

Harry was too bothered by Malfoy's familiar use of "our" to answer him immediately. He just fumed in the doorway, deciding he would try to ignore the blonde's sharp tongue as best he could. It was the only hope of getting through the day. He nearly groaned aloud. An entire day with Malfoy, shopping. It was like Harry's two worst nightmares had merged into some freakish hell. And Harry was still feeling all of the awkward tension from their waking up together... He did groan this time.

After going through literally all of Harry's clothes, Malfoy finally put on a pair of dark jeans and a gray sweater with an audible sniff. He didn't bother to pick up the rest of the clothes. Again, Harry was faced with the strange sight of Malfoy in ordinary clothing. A little off balance, he wordlessly followed the blonde out of the room when he was finished.

"You know, we'll have to go to muggle shops," Harry blurted out when they had stood in the living room in silence for several minutes, Malfoy just staring at him. "You'll have to wear muggle clothes for now." Harry didn't have much else, aside from his work robes. He had grown up in them and even when he did wear robes his muggle clothing was underneath. It was just what he was comfortable with, and with so many wizards living in partially muggle communities, it wasn't out of the norm. Harry had no idea how Malfoy would react to this. So far, he hadn't really said anything about Harry's clothes except for insulting their low quality, but Harry had this wild image fixed in his head of Malfoy throwing a huge fit over not wearing the finest Veela-spun robes.

"And what's wrong with wizard shops, Potter?"

"Just that, between the two of us, we're bound to get recognized. I don't want to deal with that if we can avoid it, and I'm sure you don't either," Harry said. To his surprise, the man just nodded at this. Had they actually agreed on something? He shifted from foot to foot. After last night, he felt incredibly uncomfortable around Malfoy.

"Fine, Potter. I suppose I could live with muggle clothes. Temporarily. I won't let you try to choose my clothes for me, though," he added, flaring up a bit.

"Oh, I wouldn't dare," Harry said under his breath, rolling his eyes. Internally, however, he was glad. Malfoy was being surprisingly reasonable. "Let's get going then." He wasn't going to let this agreeing mood of Malfoy's go to waste.

They would go outside the wards and disapparate to one of the muggle locations Harry knew well, he decided. It was a shopping center, and hopefully posh enough even for Malfoy.

Ducking into the hallway, Harry grabbed Malfoy's wrist, and told him to prepare to disapparate. After the blonde's cool nod, Harry closed his eyes and felt the familiar sucking sensation jerk them both upwards, and away.


End file.
